


Master

by ariapassionflower01



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Heavy Angst, M/M, PWP, Spanking, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariapassionflower01/pseuds/ariapassionflower01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom strayed from Master. Will there be a way to find reconciliation at the end of a long and painful night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Waow its been forever since I posted on here, but this has been my latest work and I'm really proud of it. I hope everyone enjoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's POV

It's late when the call wakes me. I'm slouched down on the couch, my phone still in my grasp, my boot clad feet pulled up on the cushions. I don't remember falling asleep, but when I jar awake, I immediately recall why I was waiting here. 

“Hello.” I answer the phone calmly. I already saw the ID, and know who it is. Closing my eyes, I search for the veneer of control I use when it comes to him. 

“Hey,” His voice is low, and I can hear background noise, people talking and music.

“What?” I ask in an even tone, before pursing my lips. I let out a slow breath through my nostrils and wait.

“Uh... I was... uh, just wondering if you could, um, pick me up.” His tone is faltering, while holding a hopeful note. He doesn't want to be calling me; he's afraid of what I'll say, perhaps a condemnation.

I let the inquiry hang there for a moment, imagining him squirming on the other end of the line. At last, I say, “I thought you didn't want me to come there.”

“Well, yeah, but...” His voice trails away before he rushes into what seems like a complicated explanation about his ride suddenly disappearing, taking home a fellow party animal, but it all seems pretty simple to me. He doesn't have a choice but to call me because he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, excluding our personal security. 

“Hmmm...” I hum slowly.

“Bill, come on.” He insists at last, growing some nerve after he realizes I'm not verbally tearing him to shreds over this. 

“Ok fine,” I said, flippantly, at last, “I'll pick you up and you can tell me all about all the fun you had.” I hang up before he can say another word. “Motherfucker.” I mutter under my breath, allowing my frustration to show while no one is around to see it. 

Rising from the couch, I go to the bathroom and make sure I look presentable before stepping out the door. I know exactly where he is, and I point the car in that direction, driving with a single minded concentration.

Arriving at the club, I pull around back, and park close to the exit. I twist around in the seat, doing a quick check of the deserted back alley to make sure no one is watching. The buildings are too close together, and too high for anyone to get a good angle from inside the car and I thank whatever luck there seems to be on my side. 

Pulling out my cell, I call him again. 

“I'm here.” I say as soon as he picks up before promptly hanging up again. I smirk, imagining that he must be irritated by now after being hung up on twice. 

A moment later the back door flies open and I can make out the swaggering figure of my brother, the dark lines of his face in shadow, but still presenting his frustration. His eyes dart up and down, just as I did, before he yanks open the back seat door. He slides down into the seat and yanks the door shut, staring angrily out the window. 

Pinning my eyes on him via the rear view mirror, I wait. 

“What?” He snaps at last, turning dark, almond eyes on me. His full brows are furrowed deeply, the sharp line of his jaw defined by clenched muscle. 

I lick my lips slowly, invigorated by his response. I love pushing him, irritating him to the point of anger. I know he must want to hurt me sometimes, but its never up to him. 

All of my own frustration is gone as I lay my eyes on him, smell his presence in the car. 

“What's wrong with the passenger's seat?” I asked easily at last.

His jaw juts forward, his eyes narrowing, “Fuck you.” He mutters at last, turning his eyes back to the window.

“Oh, I don't think so.” I shake my head.

“Would you just drive.” His voice nearly trembling and I feel that spark of excitement running through my veins. 

“Tell me about your night.” I say, ignoring his suggestion.

“Its was fucking fine, okay?” He snaps once more, flicking fiery brown eyes in my direction. Our eyes lock in the rear view mirror and I hold his gaze. 

“Meet any nice girls?” I asked in a teasing tone, making my mouth smirk at him. What I really want to do is slam him against a wall and make him confess. 

His nostrils flare and he quickly looks away, sinking down even further into the seat, until I can barely see him over the shoulder of my own seat. 

“Tom.” I say it slowly, in a warning tone. 

“Maybe.” He spits out at last. 

“You don't know?” I arch a brow at him. 

“Yeah, and you don't need to.” He responds, lifting rebellious eyes to mine again.

I chuckle, low in my throat. “But now I do know.”

His cheeks flare hot with a color I can see even in the dim lighting of the alley. He's nearly squirming in his seat, his arms crossed tightly over his middle, jaw working. He looks like a time bomb ready to explode. 

“Why don't you move over where I can see you,” I advise, “and start telling me about it.”

“No.” He immediately resists.

“Saying no implies there's something to tell.” My smile widens.

“Just shut the fuck up, Bill.” He pops up in his seat finally, face bright red as a cherry. 

“Mmm,” I murmur, amused. “I will. When you start talking.”

He sits back, breathing hard, “Nothing much to tell.” He grumbles.

“I'm sure you can make it exciting.” I encourage in a condescending tone.

“Why?” He asks, sharply, “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I know you've been fucking tonight, Tomi.” I said in slowly enunciated tone. 

“Fuck you.” He mutters once more.

“No.” I say sharply at last. The fun is wearing out when he continues to have such an attitude. I want him to break down and tell me, not continue to be annoying as hell. “You will not be fucking me.” I turn in the seat so that we are face to face, our darkened eyes clashing like heated coals, “You will be the one with your ass in the air, and not just for my cock either.” I attempt to keep my voice control, but even if I did erupt into anger, I don't think it would make a difference. He's already humiliated and coming close to a breaking point. I can see the fear flash in his eyes, the bit of anger and defiance remaining... then deeper, the disgusting lust...

Desire follows the anger through my veins, a quick, sharp cocktail that almost takes my breath away. Pleasure shocks my lower regions at that look in his eyes, the feelings crashing through me. Suddenly I want more than anything to take us home, lock us away together, forget the game I planned to play here. 

“Okay,” He says in a tremulous tone, and I realize he is giving up. I blink quickly, draw myself back together. I turn back around, facing the wheel, and draw in an unsteady breath while he can't see.  
I must go through with the interrogation or he will think he's getting off easy.

“What did she look like?” I murmur.

“Dark hair, highlighted.” Tom murmurs, “Blue eyes. Short, but nice tits and ass.”

“How cute.” I mutter under my breath.

“She had them pierced.” Tom says after a moment of silence. I lift my eyes, and find Tom looking right back at me. I want to smirk. Even when Tom wants to bang a girl, he can't help but find one that has at least one similarity to me.

“Go on.” I say in a low tone.

“You want to know...” Tom's voice trails off.

“You fucked her, didn't you?” I ask, raising brow.

“Yeah...” He whispers, lowering his head.

“How?” I push.

“Bent her over, fucked her from behind.” His voice is even quieter than before, his eyes locked to some place on the floor.

“Did that make you feel powerful?” I ask, gripping the steering wheel hard in my hands, staring at him through the mirror. My heart is knocking against my ribs, arousal swirling in my belly. I want to take him home, show him who is powerful, who is in control...

“I guess.” He whispers.

“Do you feel powerful now?” I ask, cocking my head.

His tongue emerges to swipe at his dry lips, working quickly against his piercing. “No.” He whispers at last.

I nod slowly, my gaze piercing him harshly via the rear view mirror. I want to whittle away his pride and confidence until there is only raw nerves laid bare to my touch – when he has nothing left to give but his body.

I let out a slow breath as pleasure twists my insides, simply looking at him. “Take off your pants.” I say at last in low, husky tone that leaves no room for argument. I see his eyes widen, a flush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“Wh... what?” He's attempting to remain belligerent but I know I almost have him within my clutches.

“I want to see how hard you can get for me.” I reply, icily, “If you can get hard for that girl with your dick in her pussy, you can get hard for me.... right here.”

His eyes dart back and forth, his tongue working feverishly against his piercing. I can almost see sweat glistening on his temples in the dim light. At last, he wide eyes rest on mine and his lips tremble, before his voice emanates, surprisingly strong, “Not... not here...”

“Yes, here.” I return without hesitation, and arch a brow at him, daring him to defy me.  
His throat bobs visibly and I can see him becoming desperate. No more “fuck you”s or bad attitude.... “Please....” He whispers at last, his brows drawing together in a furrow. 

“Oh,” I expel the syllable in mock surprise, “So polite, Tomi! What do you want? A reward?” My tone is dripping sarcasm, because he's getting nothing of the kind. “Take off your fucking pants.” My voice lifts and I can feel my pulse throbbing wildly in my neck. My hands are still on the steering wheel, squeezing so hard that it hurts, my palms pinching against the hard surface.

“I hate you.” I hear Tom murmur as he begins to obey, tugging down his loose pants until they crumple around his knees.

“If only I believed you.” I reply in the same tone, before smoothly transitioning to my teasing voice from earlier, “Boxers too, Tomi. You know what I want to see.”

Tom's jaw clenches, his eyes shimmering with embarrassment and anger. I don't feel the least bit of pity for him after what he did, and continues to do on a regular basis in rebellion against me.

He lifts his hips from the seat and slides his boxers down away from his dick. I scrape my teeth over my lower lip as it comes into view. A perverse kind of pleasure causes shivers to run over me as he exposes himself to me. Lifting a hand, I adjust the rear view mirror, tilting to get a better angle. I lick over the harsh bite I left on my own full lip and simply gaze at the beauty of my brother for a moment.  
He's only half hard, but even the tiniest bit of arousal from him affirms my lust. 

“I know you can do better than that.” I say in a raspy voice. I can feel my own crotch tightening, my desire fighting against layers of tight clothing. 

“Bill, please...” He tries once more. 

“Touch it.” I whisper.

“Bill...” His voice is a pathetic mess and I know he must want to simply cry right now. Perhaps that satisfies me more than his underlying desire. 

“Come on, Tomi.” I murmur, “You know you're already getting beaten. Don't make it worse.”

“Fuck you...” Tom whispers, but his voice is trembling, his eyes shimmering. 

“Fuck yourself.” I return, pleased with the innuendo that doubles as a forceful command. 

He blinks quickly, looking away. At last, I see his long beautiful hand lift, trembling and uncertain. He lays it on himself and he closes his eyes, his face flashing with a dozen, clashing emotions. I smile, deviously, at the response and wait for him to touch himself the way I know he can. It takes a few moments before he begins to drag his palm up and down. I can sense his hesitation, but I don't push him again. I take pleasure in watching him falter over an act that is almost second nature to my sexually driven twin. 

A few tense moments pass as the number of strokes over his cock rises. I can see him becoming more aroused, filling up in his own palm until at last he drops his head and clutches the seat next to him, his hand quickening of his own will.

My crotch tightens painfully and I grind my teeth, fighting against my urges – but I will not lose control here. I am not the one who will be left demolished in the aftermath of this moment – Tom will be. This is a single move in and entire game of chess, and he is maneuvering directly into clutches. 

His breathing lifts until I hear him panting. I can detect the sound of flesh against flesh. His body is tense and his skin is alive with the color of the pleasure. I want to see him explode so badly – to lose all control simply by my command, to know I have manipulated him exactly as a marionette on a string. 

“F-fuck... Bill...” Tom groans softly, his eyes barely lifting to greet mine in the mirror. His eyes are clouded over with desire and remaining apprehension and a tremble of pleasure seizes me. Looking at him in this way, I want to climb into the backseat and thrash his ass until he comes solely from that – beat the pleasure straight from him. 

I watch his hand slave over his dusky, throbbing cock, relish the pre-cum soaking his tip.... 

I groan softly, barely audible...

“Stop.” I whisper, but in a firm command.

Tom's lashes flutter, his eyes widen. His hand is sluggish to obey. “Wh-...what...?” 

“You heard me.” I reply in low tone.

He seems at a loss for a moment before his eyes darken once more. His jaw clenches again, his nostrils flaring as he begin to yank his clothes back up.

“Don't.” I order, raising a finger.

He freezes, glancing back up at me. We're silent for a moment, tension rising. “What do you want?” He whispers at last, cutting through the thick air. 

“I want you to sit there and show me how much you want me while I take you home to punish you.... thoroughly.” I return, vehemently. My entire body is throbbing and I'm so exhilarated by what I'm doing to him that I wonder if I could come free hand in my expensive trousers. 

Tom curses silently, looking away. He sits tensely in the seat, hardly moving as I lower my hand to the gear shift. I expected another fiery “fuck you” but Tom seems at a loss for words now as I pull away from the curb. Street lights pass over his expression and I can see the ruddy hue of humiliation on his cheeks as I pull into traffic. I can see him dying to cover himself, knowing that he can't and I arch my back slightly against the pleasure. 

We will be home soon and I can have my brutal and passionate way with him as I have desired all night.

I can barely concentrate on the road as I navigate through traffic, knowing that Tom is half-naked and boiling inside behind me. For now, I endure the agony along with him, knowing I will be satisfied once we are securely alone.

Its a sweet, certain kind of relief when we finally reach home. The sensation multiplies once the we are ensconced in the garage. I turn off the engine and quiet settles over us in the darkness. I sit there for a moment, feeling the apprehension rising from Tom.

At last, I push the car door open, causing the overhead light to flick on. Dim light fills the garage as I step out of the car and head towards the door. Tom follows slowly, tugging his pants up and shuffling behind me. His head is down and when I close my eyes, I can almost feel his heart beat racing uncontrollably, feel the fear emanating from his body.

Stepping inside the house, I stand aside for Tom to enter slowly. Shutting the door behind us, I feel my skin prickling in excitement, knowing I am now free to do as I please. Tom trudges to a halt when I lean against the door and simply watch him. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he licks his lips nervously. He's waiting for me to act...

“I'm gonna fuck you,” I say in raspy tone, breaking the silence of the house, “I'm gonna fuck you better than you could ever fuck that girl..... Even if you're crying in pain from your busted ass.”  
Tom flinches at my threat, his hands clenching over the gathered material of his pants. I can see the plea hovering on the tip of his tongue as he blinks quickly. 

Pushing away from the door, I saunter towards him, lust swirling through my veins. Even when I know he's strayed away from me, I still want him so strongly. I know that underneath it all, I am the only one he would ever commit to in any way. Their basic fucking will never come to the level that our connection rises too. No one else will ever fully possess him the way that I take him, and no one will ever have my attention the way he has mine. 

Coming up behind him, I immediately grab his ass with both my hands, pressing my mouth to his ear and massaging my fingers hard into his flesh, “I'm going to hurt you, Tom.” I promise in a tone that is ragged with desire, “I'm going to bruise you, make you bleed if I can.”

I hear a whimper and he stumbles with the assault on his body and senses. My acrylics dig mercilessly into his ass and I push my hands beneath his sagging pants to touch him even more intimately. I clasp his buttocks, squeezing and spreading them in my hands, finding such pleasure from touching him in this way, titillating this part of his body for punishment.

“Bill...” Tom's utterance is stilted, hiding a tremble as he sways weakly against my touches. 

“Don't fight me.” I urge, clenching my fingers over his ass. “It will only hurt more.”

“Bill, please don't...” Tom's voice is mutilated with emotion. 

“Why shouldn't I?” I demand, making him stumble forward again, towards the wall. Tripping over the pants that are falling around his knees, he catches himself against the wall. Crowding up behind him, I demand once more, “Why shouldn't I?”

Tom moans softly, resting his forehead against the smooth surface.

When he doesn't answer verbally, I grip the waistband of his boxers and yank them back down, baring him from the waist down. I clasp my hand over one of his buttocks again, squeezing it harshly. “I should beat every inch of you.” I whisper venomously, before smacking him suddenly, my palm cracking against his bare flesh. He jerks, crying out raggedly. “Do you think this is bad?” I demand, spanking him with my hand once more, enjoying the sound of flesh against flesh. “I promise its going to be a lot worse than this.” I grab his stinging ass cheek again, digging my nails into his flesh and making him moan once more. “You ass is mine.” I hiss, shaking him, “ _Mine_.”

Grabbing his arm, I pull him away from the wall. Desire shakes through me as I drag him after me, heading towards the hallway. 

“Bill, please...” Tom sounds weak now, broken down by the fact that I'm going to take him, harshly and brutally. 

Reaching the room, I push him inside and slam the door behind us although there is no one else in the house. I want him to feel completely helpless to me, caged in and cornered with no other option but to submit.

“Bend over on the bed.” I order, thrusting a finger towards the mattress.

Tom hesitates in the middle of the room, his face a storm of emotions. He wants to resist again, although all of his reasons and efforts are futile. 

“Get on the fucking bed.” My voice trembles for a moment, shaking in anger and desire. The deadly combination is already sloshing through my veins, intoxicating me and soon Tom will be a victim of my reckless abandon. 

Tom moves toward the bed, his face beginning to twist up. I've hardly touched except for the two swats to his ass, but it pleases me to see him near tears. I know his repentance is near, but that will not save him for a sound lashing. Even if he were to fall at my feet now, I would not stay my hand.

He climbs onto the bed, his jeans and boxers still tangled at his ankles. I follow after him, my eyes eating up the sight of his lifted ass. I yank his clothes off his feet and discard of his Reeboks. I run my fingers up his leg, feeling a shiver go through him as I scrape my fingernails up the back of his thigh and over his ass. “Arch it up for me, Tom.” I tell him. “You know you deserve this.”

I hear a soft whimper and he hides his face in his arms, but obeys. He's leaning on his elbows now with his knees planted, ass raised for my impending judgment. A brief, cold smile passes my lips as I drag my hand higher, pushing his shirt up his back. My fingers skim over the lines and tense ridges and I am aroused to see so much of his bare skin, no matter how unwillingly it was laid forth. 

Turning away from the bed, I cross the room to find my hidden tools in a small drawer. I choose one immediately, my fingers closing around the smooth handle of the implement. I stroke my thumb over the length of it as I return to the bed. 

Tom glances up from the cradle of his arms with eyes that are glistening with unshed tears. I can see the regret in his eyes but I have yet to hear even the beginnings of an apology. All Tom has given me tonight it disappointment, but I am going to change that for both our sakes. 

Holding up the paddle, I say softly, “Ask me for mercy if you think you have earned that.”

Tom's lips tremble and he looks away. I can see his entire body quivering, shaking with the knowledge of the pain that is about to be wrought upon his offending body, but he speaks not a word. 

Stepping closer to him, I set the paddle down on the edge of the bed and slide out of my jacket and smoothly toss my shirt over my head. I want to be as naked as Tom for this because I want to be able to press my skin to his and feel the feverish heat of his assaulted body and for him to feel the hardness of me when I bring him under my submission. 

“Look at me.” I order Tom softly, as I thumb open the button of my pants. He barely turns his gaze towards me, half of his face still hidden in his arm. I watch his brow furrow as I slide the zipper down, relieving the pressure against my rising cock. Hooking my thumbs in my pants and underwear, I slide them both down slowly, keeping my eyes on Tom the entire time. His gaze is pinned to my exposed genitals and I want to laugh because he is so pathetic thinking that a single night of infidelity will cure him of his desire for me – and vice versa. 

“What do you see?” I ask as I step out the pants and kick them away. Jutting my hip slightly, I cross my arms and wait for Tom's voice.

“Um...” His voice trembling and uncertain. “Y-your... body.”

“Is that all you see when you look at me naked?” I demand, raising a brow.

His eyes squeeze shut and when he opens them again, I can see his light honey eyes watering again. “No...” He rasps although I'm certain he's only trying to give me the answer he thinks I want – to pacify me.

“Then what is it?” I ask.

His eyes flick to mine, a pleading light in them. He's begging me to just do it, get it over with – but I will not do that. I'm going to draw out this process until he really is crying, a pathetic mess of repentance and pain. 

“I... I don't know...” He stumbles, and I'm aware that he's overthinking because I am pressuring him and he is threatened by my anger, but I don't care. He should know that my body means more than something sexual to the both of us.

“You don't know?” I tilt my head, my brow arching higher.

“Bill, please,” His voice is tenuously holding to its typical strong, low tenor. I can tell he is on the verge of tears and I've hardly laid a hand on him.

“Please?” I repeat in disgust. I grab him suddenly by the face, my fingernails biting into the flesh on his jaw as I force him to look at him. “I should beat you until you bleed and cry.” I whisper in a steely tone, although a trembling undercurrent runs through my voice. 

His brow furrows further, a fresh, wet sheen of tears glistening in his eyes. He fails to utter another word for which I am grateful; otherwise I might've lost my temper completely. His repentant silence soothes the angry throbbing of my heart, but I still have no reason to grant him mercy. 

“Open your mouth.” I order in a calmer tone, my voice husky.

His lashes flutter, uncertainty flashing in his honey brown eyes but he does as he's told, slowly parting his lips. Running my tongue over my own mouth, I gaze at his lips parted for me before bending down and forcing a kiss upon him. I hear him pant through his nose as I harshly suck and bite at his lips and plunge my tongue inside the hot, wet crevice. He still tastes like cigarettes and alcohol and it does as much to excite me as it does to anger me. He trembles against me, tense as if he's expecting me to hurt him soon. 

My heart throbs in my chest at the taste of him, the feeling of his soft, full lips beneath him. His body is ripe for picking and I can hardly wait to pillage it. 

Pushing my way onto the bed, I pull my lips from his and sink my fingers into the tight braids at the nape of his neck. I force him down with his face in the bed as I bring my skin flush against his, with his torso across one of my knees. He makes a short, tense groan that rakes across my senses, igniting hot pleasure. I'm going to force more of those sounds out of him, until I'm coming over his weak, tortured body. 

Quickly grabbing the paddle, I press my hand to his back and smack the hard, wooden instrument against his trembling buttocks. My entire body is quivering with the power I now hold over him, knowing what pain I am wreaking on him. My cock his hard against his side and I know he can feel it by the way he subtly attempts to pull away. I hold him down harder, and crack the paddle against his flushed flesh, making another patch of swelling blossom. Each strike sends pleasure through my veins, and it invigorates me how he bucks in response to the pain. He gives me every opportunity to handle him more roughly than before, and I am more than willing to oblige. 

“What would that girl think of you now?” I demand, huskily, as I punish him again, harder. He arches, his fingers raking across the sheets. He's fight just a little harder now, bordering on the line of kicking off. “She wouldn't think you were so hot, would she?” I ask through gritted teeth, digging the claws in just a little bit deeper, as I swat him hard on clenching, writhing buttocks. 

“Fuck you!” He bursts out, finally, shoving an elbow back, and plunging the sharp joint right into my ribs as he pulls away. I cry out as pain explodes across my side and I almost tumble off the edge of the bed with the force of his blow. Anger erupts inside of me, even more volatile than before and I push myself back into a stable position on my knees, towering over his body as he glowers on his back, barely pushed upright on his elbows. 

“Fuck me?” I demand. “You are the one who fucked that girl behind my fucking back! You are the one coming home smelling like some cheap cum slut's perfume!” Veins stand on out my neck, and I can feel blood heating my face into boil. “You are the one betrays me at your every chance!” I stab a finger at him, reckless wrath driving me forward. 

Tom falters, his brow furrowed, his Adam's apple bobbing quickly. He knows he fucked up already, and that he's done it again just now, and I intend to make him pay for ever second of his disobedience. 

“Get on your fucking face now before I destroy your pretty mouth with my cock.” I seethe, my voice rough and deep, barely recognizable. 

He blinks against tears, his eyes darting back and forth. I can see in his eyes that the wheels are turning behind his tense, yet handsome visage. He knows he's blocked himself in but he's still trying to think of a way out. I scoff silently. I could spit on him in disgust at the moment. 

“On your face now.” I order once more. With little patience left, I could easily snap and harm him worse than intended – not that he wouldn't deserve a busted mouth for all of this, but I'm going to methodically choose how to punish him, rather than going off half-cocked. 

He moves slowly, his defiance barely glittering behind the distressed emotion in his eyes.  
“On your knees, face in the sheets.” I demand, my voice finally reaching a level tone once more. My hand are trembling from anger and I fight to make them stop. I can not let Tom's wild, thoughtless insults rattle me. He's only upset that he's being spanked and punished like a child. I know I will have him in his place by the time the night is over.

He turns slowly on his stomach again and pushes his knees under himself with a humiliated expression – presenting me his throbbing, red ass. Leaning on his elbows, he lowers his face between his arms, cradling his horrified face from my eyes. 

I leave the bed at a quick clip, tossing aside the paddle. It obviously isn't enough for Tom's iron will tonight. 

As I return to the bed, my new instrument in hand, I see him peek through the crook of his arm at me, and his eyes widen slightly. 

“For that latest indiscretion, we're starting over – with the cane.” I say in a low tone, smacking the long, thin implement against my palm. It stings a little and I clench my fingers, excepting the flash of pain into my body. Unlike Tom, I can process pain into pleasure. If we were in opposite positions at the moment, I would've already cum from the pure pleasure of being struck. Perhaps that is part of the allure of punishing Tom – taking what I find pleasurable and using it against him. 

I hear a soft moan emanate from Tom's direction at my words but I ignore it. He's fully earned this. 

“Be glad you're already warmed up from the paddle.” I sneer at him as I approach the bed again, standing next to his prone body. I place the cane across his buttocks, drawing it in a circle slowly over the already reddened flesh. I can see him visibly tense and I say in an even softer, calmer tone, “Kick off like that again and we'll be here for at least 100 lashes, do you hear me?”

I hear a soft sniffle but Tom nods slowly into his arms. “Yes, sir.” He mumbles. 

_At least he's addressing me correctly,_ I muse to myself as I draw the cane away from his ass before bringing it back down in a quick flick of my wrist. The cane whistles through the air before smacking sharply against his flesh. He jerks, groaning against the pain. I know exactly how to work this instrument, to exact the highest amount of pain and Tom is receiving all of my expertise at the moment. 

“One.” I murmur.

Immediately, a long, thin welt rises on his skin across the lower part of his ass and I rub the cane against it once more, lining up my next strike. 

“Two.” I count calmly as I punish him again. 

I can already see his sides expanding rapidly, and his body jarring with each strike, although I've hardly touched him. He'll be a tortured mess by the time I'm satisfied, and I feel fully justified in how harshly I've decided to punish him. 

The cane cuts across his flesh again and I can see him struggling to hold back loud, agonized responses. His mournful sobbing only makes me strike him harder in the same exact spot. He jerks forward, a cry muffled into the sheets. 

“Four.” I say as I tap the cane slowly against the swelling flesh, causing him to tense prematurely. I smile a little at that before my arm performs a perfect arch and the cane snaps back against his ass once more. 

“Ahhhgg....” Tom cries, his hands clenching into fists around some of his braids and his body dipping forward. 

“Five.” I count in a slow soft tone, letting Tom recover from the latest strike. He's breathing heavily, fighting against tears as he pushes his trembling body back into position. I applaud his strength, but I know it probably won't last for long. Tom's body is far too sensitive to withstand this without falling apart into an agonized, sobbing mess.

The next few strikes fall into a neat pattern – sharp smack, Tom's reaction, an interval of five evenly counted seconds, before starting again. 

We've reached the double digits before Tom cries out, “Bill, please!” 

I almost expected this sooner. It's just like Tom to try to worm his way out of worse punishment by trying to move me with his tears. Unlike my brother, however, I'm not persuaded or deeply affected by tears inside the bedroom; if Tom is crying here, it is because he very well deserves it and that most definitely applies right now. 

He gazes over at me, his face streaked with a few tears, his face twisted in pain, “Please, I won't do it again, I promise.” He pleads through teethed clenched against the pain.

I click my tongue softly, and shake my head, “Oh, Tom.” I murmur, inspecting the cane with narrowed eyes and bending it between my hands. 

“Please.” He groans once more. 

I hardly deign him a glance this time. “I promised to make you bruise and bleed, Tom.” I lift the cane to his ass, placing the long, thin instrument against the abused flesh. “Do you think I've forgotten everything you've done after a few tears?”

He silences and out of the corner of my eye, I see him drop his head back to the sheets in defeat.  
“Have you forgotten what you've done after just a few lashings?” I ask. “You touched someone, Tom. You _fucked_ them. Do you really think that I'm going to stop after twelve measly little spankings?” I demand.

He doesn't respond, but his shoulders shudder. 

“I should beat you all night.” I spit in disgust. “You don't even deserve the pleasure of being fucked by me.” 

He shoulders shake harder and I know he's crying now. I can hear soft sobs drifting from beneath him. 

“I don't know how I'll ever be able to think you've had enough.” I mutter spitefully, drawing the cane back. Punishing him once more, I push all my disgusted and angry feelings into the power of my swing. I'm so angry, so betrayed deep inside, that I really do wonder....

“Thirteen.” I hiss, hardly giving him time to process that strike before moving on to the next. Tom's cries are louder than before, his body arching and trembling with each punishment. I push into the twenties before Tom's sobbing forms into words again. 

“Bill, please, please, I can't....” He moans, his body threatening to slump onto his side.

“You can't?” I repeat, indignant. “After what you've done, you just _can't_?” 

He cries softly, his body swaying until he sinks down onto his stomach, face still hidden in the sheets. 

“Look at me!” I snap, slapping him hard on the back of his thigh with the cane. The strike on fresh flesh jars him and does as he's told, lifting a tear-stained, flushed face to mine. 

“You should be begging me for this.” I say in a low tone, pointing the cane at his face. “You should be down on your knees, kissing my feet, _begging_ me: 'Yes, please, punish me, sir.'” 

His lashes flutter against a new assault of tears and his eyes bounce away every few seconds. I can see the guilt in his eyes. He knows I'm right, but the pain electrifying his body won't let him say it.

“In fact,” I say coolly, drawing back the cane, “That's exactly what you're going to do.”

His eyes lift to mine again, wide and horrified. He bites his lip as if to hold back more cries and pleas for mercy. 

“Right now, you're going to lay on this bed and you're going _think_ about what you've done. I'm going to go downstairs and get myself a drink,” I inform him. “And when you've thought about this long enough, and hard enough, until you feel my pain.... you're going to come to me and ask me for more.”

Tom's lip quivers in the trap of his teeth and tears well faster in his eyes but I don't feel the slightest bit of pity for him. 

“You're going to give this to me,” I say, laying the cane on the bed beside him, “And you're going to _beg_ me for more. Do you understand?”

His throat bobs and he shakes his head slowly, “Yes, sir.”

“Be lucky I'm even giving you this chance.” I curl my lip at him as I gaze down at his pathetic form before turning on my heel and leaving the room. A drink sounds very inviting but I don't anticipate the wait, the long minutes I know it will take Tom to come to me and do as I ordered. 

Stepping outside the room, I close the door and pause for a moment, listening. I walk away when I hear Tom begin to cry harder behind the closed door. Shaking my head, slowly, I make my way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. 

The rest of the house is dark and I step towards the wine cooler, still naked. The AC strokes my overheated body and my heartbeat calms, but the insistent flame in my groin doesn't seem to respond – neither to my anger, nor to the chilliness outside of the bedroom. 

I find my hand still quivering a little as I pour a glass of white and lift it to my lips. I close my eyes as it slides smoothly down my throat. Setting it on the counter, I lean there and lower my head to peer at my aroused cock. My needs won't let me rest until I'm satisfied and I resist the urge to touch myself to completion right here. Tom started this, and now he's going to have to finish it. I won't come until I'm touching Tom's body in some way – although I'm loathe to give him any type of pleasure in return... not at the moment, as least.

I lift my glass again, taking a bigger drink, only to cringe. But I remind myself that I chose wine so that I would pace myself and the process would be calming. 

Taking my glass, I walk to the window and gaze out at the LA's lit up skyline. Staring at it, I can see why it calls Tom out to play, but his interest in women has always puzzled me. I'm all he needs, whether I have a vagina or not – or perhaps its because I don't. And perhaps that is also the reason he seeks after them. I have always been on top, in charge of the two of us, and Tom has never completely accepted his role as the submissive twin. He craves to be an alpha male, even though we both know there won't be a day where I would ever let him go, or allow him to rise above me. This constant struggle has always been a part of our relationship and to an extent it excites and invigorates me. The rest of me sometimes wishes Tom would eagerly be my submissive; in part, this is the reason I demanded that he beg for it, but mostly I know he needs to forced into his place by a strong, dominant hand. 

Sipping at my wine, I contemplate until my eyes begin to drift to the clock, counting the number of minutes that have passed since I left the room. I imagine Tom wallowing on the bed, trying to speak logically to himself in his head, convince himself to just get it over with... I can see him heading for the door with a limp in his step, stopping short, pacing around....

I sip my wine again and smile. 

I can wait this out.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's POV

The doorhandle had been cold beneath my touch when I first grabbed it. Now, its slowly heating to my own body temperature. My forehead is pressed against the door, the rest of my body leaning too. I made it here, with the cane gripped in my other hand. I had pep talked myself long enough to get off the bed, ignoring the pain slashing across my backside.

I feel so sick.

I know I deserve this. There's nothing in the world that can change that, but that doesn't stop me from balking at the thought of another relentless round of caning to my already bruised and aching ass. It hurts so much that it feels like its cutting to the bone.

 _You just had to fuck that girl... You just had to try to spite him..._ I degrade myself in my head. Thinking back on it, it was not the wisest nor correct course of action. In fact, it was a pretty huge fucking mistake.

For a few minutes I thought he would never know. I thought that I could get away with pleasuring myself without his knowledge. It was a foolish notion, one I should've realized right when that girl pushed herself against me.

In truth, I don't find many people attractive besides Bill, my own twin, and there's no one else I would submit to – and that is the crux of the entire thing. Sometimes I hate being Bill's submissive. Sometimes, I abhor the way he controls me and bosses me around. Tonight was one of those nights, and maybe it still is.

Trying to sum up the courage to face Bill is akin to facing an entire, skilled army as one single warrior – you don't have a chance. You'll be crushed and broken, no matter how hard you fight. I'm sure that is Bill's intention in giving this command. I'm sure he wants to make me take my serving of humble pie and choke on it. He wants to crush my rebellion beneath his beautiful, curvacious, ivory feet.

I push away from the door, still holding to the door handle. I try to make myself open it. In my other hand, the cane trembles.

The longer I stand here, the longer this night goes on. I don't have any other choice but to do as he says. Bill will wait for as long as I take, even if that means the sun will rise on our impasse.

“Fuck,” I whisper, running the back of my hand, the one holding the cane, over my face. I flex my fingers around the door handle and open it before I have a chance to think. The dark hallway yawns out before me like a great black abyss threatening to swallow me whole.

Taking a faltering step, my ears straining to listen for signs of Bill. The house is silent, but I navigate my way down the stairs, limping slightly, towards the wine cooler. Bill said he would be having a drink....

I'm gripping the cane so hard that its pinching my palm and my heart slamming against my ribs in its haste. My footsteps are slow and unsteady as I make my way towards my destination – my doom.

I pass the clock, noting that its been several hours now since we left the club. I grimace as the thought of all the time we've just spent upstairs with Bill's hand wielding the instruments of punishment against my body.

I almost choke over my own breath when I catch sight of Bill by the window. His back is turned and he's holding the wine glass delicately. His naked body glows in the soft moonlight, white and pure under the adoring rays. I lower my head, unable to look at him as guilt hammers at my armor of rebellion.

He must've heard my footsteps because he turns, facing me with an arched brow, an expectant look. He doesn't say anything about the amount of time I took, although I wouldn't have put it past him. I bite my lip and drag myself forward, knowing what I have to do.

I search for my words as I come to stand in front of him. Pressing my eyes closed, I tell myself to just speak, but I feel frozen.

“Tom,” Bill's voice breaks my concentration and I feel his fingers under my chin, directing my eyes to his. I can barely look into his dark, caramel gaze. “Do you have something to ask me?” He inquires, prodding me.

“Yes, sir.” I whisper, my voice barely a rasp. My palms are in a cold sweat now, my heart throbbing desperately.

Bill's brow lifts higher as he waits for me to stutter out what he wants to hear.

“I... um... I w-want you to... punish me... sir.” My eyes are downcast as I say it, and I have a feeling it won't be good enough.

“Is that so?” Bill asks. “You don't sound like you want that very much.”  
Pressing my eyes closed, I bite my lip, trying to summon up a better response. “Please, sir,” A whine infiltrates my voice, although its not from longing.

Bill grabs my shoulder suddenly, pressing me down, and I glance up at him. “Get down there.” He demands, giving me a harder shove. I fall to the ground at his feet, fighting against tears. My head is already pulsating from crying,and I don't want to anymore, but I can hardly help it.

Lowering my head, I stare at his feet, the white arches and perfectly pedicured toes.

“Please, sir...” I whisper, “ I... I want you to.”

“Want me to what?” Bill demands, nudging his leg forward against my down turned face.

Trying to breathe past the knot in my throat, I lay my head down against his foot, so that I'm literally begging at his feet. “I want you to punish me.” I repeat, my tone barely audible, slightly panicked.

“How?” Bill asks, his voice softer now, almost matching my tone.

Biting down on my lip, I quell another tide of tears, and clench the cane harder, “With... with the cane.” The words barely push past my lips, and I feel a stray tear slip out of my eye and fall into his flesh.

“Is that what you really want?” Bill inquires, quietly.

I'm sure the question is a trick. Does Bill really expect to me to honestly beg for more beatings with the cane?

“Sir?”I ask, lifting my head to gaze up his body at him.

He gazes back at me, his face calmer than it has been all night, but his eyes a storm. “Do you want me to punish you for what you've done?” He expounds simply.

I swallow hard, trying to imagine the next few seconds. If I say yes, he might think I'm lying. If I say no, he'll be angry after all the effort to get me here.

“It's yes or no, Tom.” Bill says. “Do you want me to punish you for breaking my heart and my trust like you did?” His voice hardens with the question and I quickly glance away, assaulted by guilt again.

“Yes, sir.” I whisper before I overthink the response. I know I deserve to be punished. I knew that from the beginning, but I hate it. I hate lying there for every hard and humiliating spanking – paining me both physically and mentally.

“That was yes?” Bill prods.

“Yes,” I repeat louder, sitting back on my heels. The beaten flesh of buttocks grazes the cold tile of the floor and I wince slightly, but I push it to the back of my mind and shove the cane in Bill's direction. “Take it.” I breath, trying to blink away the blurriness in my vision. “Punish me. I want it.” My tone is choppy and not altogether convincing, but I hope that Bill will just take my forcefulness as sincerity.

Bill takes the cane from me slowly, his long, white fingers wrapping slowly around the wooden, curved handle. “Stand up.” He orders.

Dread immediately swirls through my stomach as soon as Bill begins handing out orders again. I slowly rise to my feet, my gaze dropping back to the ground once I'm level with Bill. I try to breathe evenly, but torturous anticipation won't let me remain calm.

“Turn around.”

My mind begins its quick spin, like a dizzy merry-go-round once more as I slowly face away from Bill.

“Put your hands behind your head.” Bill orders and I hold back a soft moan. When Bill directs me into a submissive position like this, I know better than to expect anything but discipline.

I hear him pace around as I obey, locking my hands behind my head. My palms are already sweating against my braids and I close my eyes, steeling myself. I hear him stop beside me. The smooth texture of the cane brushes my lower back, then down to my bruised ass. I clench my teeth, waiting for the strike, the pain. I pray that I can remain standing and silently curse him for putting me into the most impossible position.

“Listen to me, Tom.” Bill's soft voice fills my ears instead, although the sudden noise still causes me to flinch. “I want you to understand that what you did tonight was inexcusable. If you think you can bullshit your way through this punishment, you're wrong. I don't want any lies, or half-hearted attempts at pleasing me.” His voice hardens from its light tone and the cane taps against me. I clench my eyes closed, my heart racing. “You should be doing everything in your power to convince me that I shouldn't kick you to a fucking street corner.”

My heartbeat's quick pace falters with a harsh stab of pain. Tears throb in my eyes. I know he's right... Anyone else would've left me by now....

“Now....” Bill's voice leaves off from the shadowing of his feelings, “I don't want anymore of this pathetic 'please, sir', 'I want it, sir'. I want you to fucking beg for it.”

Without warning, the cane slams down upon my flesh, and white hot pain sears through me. My back arches, my fingers clenching to remain in position behind my head. My whole body rises up as if yanked on a marionette string. I tremble for my balance as I try to form an appropriate response. With my mouth sucking for air like a fish, I try to process the pain running through me.

“Beg, Tom!” Bill demands, and I hear the whip of the cane through the air, before it crashes down against my flesh. I cry out this time, a loud, pained yelp, as I rise up on my toes, lose balance and stumble. I catch myself with my hands still barely clasped behind my head and my body bent over.

“Stand up and beg.” Bill's voice is a hiss and I let out a low sob as I drag myself up.

“Please....” The word is barely a whimper and the cane slashes across my aching flesh again in response to my pathetic attempt. I barely manage to keep position as I cry, “Bill, please, please....” I can barely think to say anything else around the debilitating pain.

“Do you really think that's good enough?” Bill demands, caning me hard in the next second.

The force of it sends me off balance again and I stumble into the wall, catching myself against the hard, cold surface. Halfway bent over in pain, I lean there, pathetically. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry....” I moan, wanting to drop to the floor, curl up in a ball and sob.

“Sorry....” Bill repeats.

Fighting back the hicupping in my chest, I look over at him with watery eyes, “Yes, please, please, believe me....” My voice is hardly a whine, pathetic.... But Bill's expression is marred only by a frown, his eyes cold.

“You're sorry. Now that you're here with a broken ass.” He gestures with a stab of his finger towards my aching body. “Where was that apology when when you confessed to fucking that girl?” He asks, plunging a knife of pain into my chest. “All I got was 'fuck you'. Over and over again.”

I drop my head, closing my eyes against tears. I can't even look at him.

“No... You don't get to say sorry now. You're going to take what I'm giving you and know that you damn well deserve it.” Bill says in a low tone.

He's right. I should've apologized much earlier. I should've been crying and repentant long ago. But I told myself in that moment that I hated Bill for what he did to me – controlling me and directing me like a puppet. Now I realize that hurting Bill was never worth it – not only because of the physical pain but also the spiritual.

“Please....” I whisper, “I'll do whatever you want.”

“Stand up.” Bill's says, hardly acknowledging my murmur.

Swallowing back tears, I force myself to stand up straight and lift my hands back behind my head.

“You have one more chance, Tom.” Bill's says in a dangerously low tone.

Without another word, hardly giving me time to process the statement, he lands another forceful blow across my already, deeply throbbing buttocks. Dull, pulsating pain sinks into flesh after the first initial stinging, shock and I try to work around it to form words, “Yes, sir... please...” I groan through gritted teeth, “I... I … need you to.. p-punish me...”

“More.” Bill orders, caning me for what seems like the hundredth time.

I cry out raggedly, teetering on my tiptoes from the pain, “Master...” I moan, the even higher ranking name flowing jaggedly from between my lips. I can feel him breaking me steadily. It was slow at first but now its faster and faster. The cane falls on my abused buttocks, causing the cries to race up my throat, “Master, please.... take me...” I rasp.

 _Smack!_ The cane falls harshly, rapidly.

“Take me... have me....” Sobs attempt to choke me, and I'm barely standing, swaying towards the wall again. I know its not exactly what he wants to hear but its all my distressed brain can send to my tongue. All I can offer him is my body and hope that satisfies him.

“Have what?” Bill demands. “A betraying, rebellious little bitch?!”

_Smack!_

I hardly find the strength to remain standing and Bill's words cut deep into me, sapping the last of my will. I grope blindly at the wall as I tilt off balance. Falling to my knees, I sag against the cold plaster, tears running down my cheeks, emotion shaking me. I don't have anything left to fight with, no reason to buck against Bill's commands. He's ground me down to exactly the position he wants, where all I can do is go back to him.

“Please, please...” I moan.

My voice had dwindled into almost nothing when Bill's fingers twist cruelly around the braids at the nape of my neck, forcing a soft cry to leave my lips as he pulls me around. He towers over me, his face dark, appearing even more terrifying in the shadows of the house.

“You have nothing, Tom, do you hear me?” He asks, shaking me. “Nothing but me. _You_ are nothing without me.”

I reach up, grasping at his hips as I cry. I can only nod in agreement, praying that he will see that he had fully broken me. I lay my head against his thigh, rubbing my tear-streaked face against the soft flesh. “Master...”I whimper.

I hear him sigh softly. His fingers loosen from my braids and for a moment the house is silent save for my mournful sniffles. At last, his hand scoops my chin and guides me back.

“Go upstairs and lie on the bed.” He murmurs. His voice is devoid of the vengeful wrath that it held only a few minutes ago; but it doesn't hold much else either.

I'm unsure of my Fate, and I want to hope that I've been through the worst, but I'm not stupid enough to dream of forgiveness just yet. My heart is heavy, realizing the full weight of my trespass.

As I rise, I'm slightly dizzy from the pain, but I don't have the will to reject the beating that was thrust upon me. I deserved every lash....

Even though Bill has yet to fully accept me back into his arms, I'm somehow loathe to leave him. His presence is integral to my ritual of penance, and also the reward at the end of the long and painful road.

The journey up the stairs pains me. My skin is hot and tight with swelling. Some of the welts are raw and dotted with blood.

When I get to the bedroom, I'm grateful to fall to the bed as Bill instructed, settling on my stomach. Exhaustion is running through my veins and I let my eyes close. Long minutes begin to pass and I wonder if Bill will even join me tonight. The wondering and the constant nag of pain keeps me at the edge of slipping into slumber until at last I hear the door opening. I turn my head to catch a glance of Bill stepping inside.

Bill's brows are drawn, his mouth down turned. It hurts me now knowing I'm so utterly responsible for all of this.

Stepping across the room, Bill comes to stand at the side of the bed. His eyes dart up and down my body, dwelling on my bruised ass.

“Do you really want me to take you?” He asks at last, his low, passionate voice shattering the tense silence.

I don't answer at first and then his eyes flick to mine, holding my gaze in an intimidating manner. “Do you?” He repeats, softly.

“Yes, sir.” I whisper in return, my voice husky.

He nods slowly, reaching out a hand to touch my thigh. His fingers graze the one mark he left there and I try to hide a wince. His thumb brushes across it again, forcing a whimper from my lips.

“Say it.” He commands, his tone remaining calm and quiet.

“I want you to take me.” I whisper, my heart picking up its pace. I add for good measure, “....master...”

“You want me to fuck you.” This time it's not a question. “You want me to put my cock in you.”

I nod quickly against the sheets, my body thrumming somewhere between excitement and lingering dread – or perhaps I still don't think he's done punishing me.

“Mmm...” He hums a note of approval before turning on his heel and going back to the resting place of his instruments. For a second, fear chokes me, irrationally expecting another spanking tool.. But when he returns, one a small item is clutched in his hand.

“I want you to turn over so I can put this on you and then you're going to turn back onto your face.” Bill orders calmly.

My heart pounds in my chest as I already have an idea as to what he's holding, but I do as I'm told. I grimace at the way the sheets chafe against my raw flesh and try to find a comfortable position as I lay on my back, awaiting Bill's next move.

Bill slides onto the edge of the bed, sitting next to me. “I'm going to have you.” He murmurs as his fingers skate over my hip, “I'm going to take what is mine.” His fingers seize my half aroused cock suddenly and I bite my lip to hold back a sound of surprise and arousal. His thumb strokes over me as he directs my cock into an erect position, before holding up the small ring between his fingers with the other hand. “Do you understand what this means?” He asks me.

I breathe hard, staring at the cock ring. As much as I know I deserve everything Bill is doing to me, I find myself wanting to scream at the prospect of Bill riding into me hard with no way to cum.

“It means I can't cum.” I whisper.

“And why not?” Bill pushes.

“Because.... I was with... someone else.” Blood heats my cheeks as I whisper it.

“I'm going to have the pleasure of ravaging your body, and you will understand that this is mine to take. And it is not yours to give.” His fingers squeeze a little tighter around my cock in and almost painful way. I wince at his words and at the pain but I don't say another word – neither to agree nor protest.

I deserve it, I tell myself. I have to do whatever it takes to make Bill forgive me, because without Bill.... there is nothing – just like he said.

“Yes, sir...” I repeat, my tone trembling.

Bill's eyes flick to my face and I want to cry all over again at the pain I see hiding behind layers of superiority and authority. His lips part as if he means to say something but in the next second, he's looking away, jaw clenched. Brows furrowed in concentration, he slides the ring down over my half aroused dick. It comes to rest at my base, barely squeezing me yet, but I know that will all change once Bill turns me over again and begins to touch me.

“On your face.” Bill orders in an even tone as he rises from the bed.

I comply as quickly as possible, having no further desire to disrespect or disobey him. It's a relief to relieve the pressure of the sheets against my beaten skin and I thank whatever luck is on my side. I push myself up slightly on elbows and knees, offering myself to him. I see him glance over at me for a second as he takes the lube from among his tools.

I can feel the tension in the room building, made thicker by our silence now. My ears throb with the echo of my heartbeat and my stomach is a strange mix of dread and arousal.

Bill steps across the room at a determined pace until he reaches the bed, climbing on behind me. Pressing my eyes closed, I lay my forehead against the sheets, waiting for him to act on by broken body, laid forth as a sacrifice. I'm already quivering, my mind and entire being a mess; I'm sure it's exactly as he planned.

The lube uncaps with an ominous snap.

I breath uncertainly, having to remind myself to suck in air and then release it. All that wants to come up is whimpers and whines. Pursing my lips, I force the oxygen through my nostrils.

Bill's hands touch me and I suck in a sharp breath. His entire hand grasps one of my buttocks, sending pain flaring across my flesh as he spreads me apart to dive his other fingers into my cleft. I feel the cock ring cinch tighter around me with the very swipe of his wet fingers against my flesh. His touch is confidant and determined. He knows my body well and these motions are practiced. No matter how tight and tense I may be, Bill can always pry me open to gaping, wanting cavity in a matter of minutes.

I choke over a breath as the firm massaging of his fingertips over my entrance turns into probing, seeking entrance. I try to release my muscles and allow it to happen – but the knowledge that none of this is for my pleasure does not make my body completely willing to process.

A gasp works its way up my throat as a single finger pierces me, spreading shock waves of pleasure across my starved sense. My cock responds with a dull throb inside the prison of the cock ring and I fight the urge to reach down and rub myself in consolation. I know that not one finger is going to be laid on that part of my wanting body tonight.

“Is this what you want?” Bill's voice is low, tilting with an emotion I can't quite pin down, as he presses a firm finger into my body. I immediately gather the sheets into my tightly clenched fists, quivering at the small, yet so extremely significant invasion.

“Yes...” I manage to moan in a barely audible rasp.

“Good.” Bill's voice deepens, and his fingers clamp down harder on my ass cheeks, his nails digging into my tender flesh in what I'm sure is a purposeful motion. I grind my teeth against the pain, trying not to squirm away and leave Bill the satisfaction of pulling yet another reaction from me. If he is here to hurt me, then he can do it, but I have realized all of my mistakes. I am going to weather my way through this storm, no matter how much pain and displeasure its going to cost me.

I feel Bill's breath against my lower back as his finger pumps into me, performing full length thrusts, from tip knuckle. I moan softly with each penetration – both for the pleasure of it and the torture.

“Yes, open up wide for me, Tomi.” Bill's tone sends shudder down my spine, my skin awakening to the touch of his lips and the sound of his voice. A cry chokes me again as he unexpectedly fits a second finger into my straining entrance. The lube allows a quick slide after the initial resistance and I can hear the slickness of the lube against my own moisture inside. I hold back a trembling curse as Bill's long fingers quest into me, curling deep. I can feel him searching for my prostate with each far-reaching thrust and soon the torturous pleasure of it begins to sear my sense. I fight not to write under him but the sensations bombarding me are too strong.

“Nnngg....god, Bill...” The syllables are panted out between groans of pleasure and I find myself arching my ass up higher despite knowing that there will be no resolution to the feelings roiling through my body.

“That's right.” Bill's tone is slightly mocking, “Moan like the little cum slut you are.”

Bill's words only serve to invigorate me towards a louder response and I even thrust my hips back in sync with the forward motion of Bill's fingers, forcing them into me hard and deep.

“That's how you want it?” Bill demands, flexing his fingers over my bruised ass and seating his fingers into me with a little more force than before – directly on my prostate. My fingers tear at the sheets, my mouth gaping against my fists as my body tenses in silent, excruciating pleasure for several seconds. My cock flinches madly inside the cock ring's iron hold, sending a dull ache through my lower regions. Finally able to make a sound, I release an understated whine, trembling from head to toe.

“Take it, you little bitch.” Bill's voice is venomous as he strikes his fingers into me again, in repeated motions, fucking his fingers into me hard until I can hardly control myself against the thrashing and moaning. The pleasure wells so hard inside me that I can feel the urge to cum but I can't.... The ring strangling my dick won't allow me any type of completion.

Suddenly, three of Bill's fingers crash into me and my back arches sharply as he fills me up and stretches me open.

“Bill, please....” I moan, rocking back and then forward, caught between escaping the torturous pleasure and desiring it.

“Please, what?” He sneers in disgust, thrusting fingers into me and scraping them over my prostate in a deliberate motion.

Biting fiercely at my lip, I bow forward, holding back a scream that wants to escape my throat. The sensations are so intense that my eyes well with sudden tears. My cock throbs dully in response, the trapped blood barely circulating in the confined space of my aroused dick.

Bill's hand draws back from my buttock for a sharp slap against my bruised flesh and I cry out again, my hips darting away from his painful touch. “I didn't hear you.” Bill says, grabbing my hip and directing me back onto his fingers.

“Please just...” I open my eyes to stare at the bed sheets under me, the pattern blurring in my vision, “Just f-fuck me...” I force out.

“Just fuck you?” He questions, his fingers slowing, “Just do it? Just like you did with that girl?” He chuckles, but the sound is dark and lacking any kind of mirth, “If you think I'm just going to fuck you and dump you, you better rethink this.” His fingers flex over my hip as he draws his digits in and out of me in a slow, torturous motion.

I moan softly, laying my forehead against the sheets. I know I'm in no position to demand anything, or even ask. I lost that privilege several hours ago, and its not returning until Bill decides to forgive me.

“No...” Bill repeats in a lower tone, “This isn't a meaningless fuck for a few seconds of pleasure, Tomi.”

I whimper at the nickname, despite the way its delivered through clenched teeth. I press my face to my arm as his fingers rub back and forth inside me, twisting and turning to force me open as far as possible.

“This is for you to remember your place.” His fingers jab into me firmly as if in punctuation, drawing moan after moan from between my lips. I struggle to remain in position but with my level of discomfort rising, it's difficult. I can only imagine how it will feel once Bill is inside me....

“No rebellious response for that, hmmm?” Bill questions with a few quick strokes. I choke over another desperate sound and violently shake my head against the sheets, but suddenly Bill's fingers snare in my braids, yanking my face out of the sheets, “Use your voice and address me correctly.” Bill's voice is a hiss in my ear and I moan at pain flaring over my scalp.

“N-no, sir.” I manage to stutter, sounding on the verge of a sob.

“Good.” Bill's voice is dangerously low as I feel his fingers slip from me. My breath hitches in anticipation, my body trembling. I remain still, tilting my head back sharply to ease his brutal grip on my hair.

I hear the splash of lube and feel his knuckles bump against my ass as his cock brush my skin as he lubes himself in slow purposeful pumps of his hand. Curling my fingers around the sheets, I hold back another pathetic sound, waiting for the familiar press of his cockhead against my entrance. My flesh is burning despite the lube and I know I'll be ridden raw by the end of the night.

Bill enters me slowly. He's angry but not reckless, determined to hurt me, but not damage completely. The small, lingering fact is my slim hope and I'm surprised I'm lucid enough through my panic to see any kind of silver lining.

The initial stretch of his long, beautiful cock inside me scatters my senses. My eyes roll back slightly, my lips parting as I experience the pleasure of his first entrance. I grasp at the small sensation of pleasure although I know there will be no conclusion or even affirmation of our bond.

With his cock burrowed deeply into me, Bill's mouth captures my ear, sucking at the lobe and shell. I shudder weakly at the wet sensation as he releases the flesh with a pop. “I want you to feel like you're exploding,” He murmurs against my moistly fondled ear, “I want you to feel like you're going crazy.” His hips grind slowly against me and I feel him breathing heavily against my back and against my cheek, “I want you to get angry and wonder why this is happening.... and then I want you to remember.”

His words fall like heavy blows on my heart and my emotions seesaw, forcing a gush of tears to my eyes. But nothing is as painful as when he murmurs, “I want you to feel exactly as I feel.”

His biting speech commences with a hard thrust of his hips as he pulls his face from mine. He releases my hair with a shove and grabs both my hips. My head spins from the force of his hand and I scramble to prepare myself for the next few minutes, although I have a feeling I will never be fully prepared for Bill touching me in any way.

He glides out of me to the very tip before crashing back into me, his cock sinking so deeply into me that pain pinches my insides for a single moment. I whine into the sheets, my sweating hands gathering as sections of material, wrinkling it as I cry into the soft cotton. They smell like Bill, a scent that still strives to calm me despite the circumstances.

He begins to rock against me, his hips slapping firmly against my bruised ass cheeks, sending small spikes of pain across my flesh. The rest of my body aches dully, throbbing especially hard at the very center, where my trapped cock bounces up against my stomach with the force of his thrusts. Each plunge of his dick inside me, forces a wave of pleasure upon me, before it slams up against the iron wall – the tiny, yet undeniable force of the ring.

Bill pants and gives soft grunts behind me and the sounds begin to torture me. I bury my head in my arms, clasping them tight against my ears as he pumps into me.

The repetitive motion jars me forward and causes the bed to creak under me, swaying us both – faster and faster. His protruding hip bones ride up against my bruised ass with a smack with each thrust and I can feel his fingernails gripping at my waist, sometimes dragging over my back.

“Come on, Tomi,” He pants at last, his pace slowing a bit, “Don't you want it?”

He seems peeved by my lack of responses and my stiff figure. I intended to simply suffer through this but it appears that Bill won't allow me even that.

He bends down over me, planting his hands on either side of me. His hips continue to circle slowly, grinding his cock down into me, forcing it up against my prostate. I struggle not to cry out, my body tensing with the intense, almost unbearable sensation.

“Doesn't if feel good?” Bill murmurs, his breath whispering over my cheek.

“Take if off.” The whimpered words slip from my lips before I can think.

“You think you deserve another orgasm after what you did?” He asks quietly, in an almost calm tone as he draws his hips back slightly before pushing back in. I groan, my body twisting under him.

“I... I... don't deserve anything.” I whisper, at the edge of tears now. I just want him to stop. At the moment, I would rather be kicked to the street corner as he said, than have him continue with this torture.

“You think I'm doing this because I want to give you something?” Bill asks, his hips almost stilling completely.

“I think you're doing it to hurt me.” I return, my voice rising with a single burst of energy.

He grabs me suddenly, yanking my head up first, before slamming me back down with one cheek pinned to the mattress. His other hand cracks down against the one exposed side of my face in a harsh smack, which makes my ears ring and my eyes water.

“Do you think you deserve any less?!” His voice his a shout, but his tone is broken, hurt, and betrayed.

My head spins from the smack, and the world tilts as Bill flips me suddenly. Bill comes in to view above me, towering over me with a dark, yet cracking expression. He grabs my splayed legs and lifts me up in order to slam back into me. My knees are pressed up against my sides as he rocks into me. With his face close to mine, I see all the hurt and anguish resting in his gaze.

My cheek stings, my backside aches.... but worse than that, I can feel my heart slowly breaking.

“Bill...” I moan quietly, lifting a hand for his face.

It's all crashing down upon me suddenly – every single implication of what I have done, the deep fear of losing my Master to my own stupidity, imagining the pain inside of him, knowing I've only felt a portion.....

He grabs my wrists, however, and pins my arms down above my head as he jerks his hips against me, slamming his cock deeply into me. Leaning down over me, his hair falling down over his forehead, he stares into my eyes. I can barely stand to look back at him; I'm so ashamed of myself.

A tear slips out of my eye, rolling down my temple.

The night's events are flashing before my eyes – every single one of my indiscretions presenting themselves even more clearly than before. My desire to fuck someone seems petty now, a useless action to break free of the one thing that has grounded me and _loved_ me my entire life.

“Bill...” I whisper again, my voice breaking. I fight against his hold on my wrists – not to escape, but to get closer to him. I need to touch him, show him how much I hate myself for this.... Show him how much I need him... “Bill... please....” I moan, trying to wiggle my wrist away from his grasp, while his long, pale fingers only tighten. “Please!” My voice rises to a higher pitch as I try to latch onto his gaze, hoping he can read the repentance in my eyes.

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching. Color flushes his cheeks and and his muscles stand out against his thin layer of skin with his effort. He pushes into me over and over, sending the same rapid, aching sensations through my body.

I don't want the night to end like this; not anymore. I don't want him to fuck me and throw me to the side in anger. I don't want to be given up on....

Drawing in a sharp breath through my nostrils, I clench my legs hard against his sides and lock my ankles behind, halting his motions I twist my hips, taking him with me. I know it is a risky move, knocking Bill out of his place on top, but I cannot lie here while my world crumbles around me. I have to make one last desperate attempt.

Bill makes a cry of surprise and he loses grip on my arms as I roll us to our sides. Keeping my legs locked around, I grab at his batting hand and press them to my face.

“Master....please, hear me...” My voice is broken and I feel the rest of me cracking with it. Sobs are welling up in my chest and I lean my head into his hands and towards his heaving chest. “Please, forgive me..... I'm begging you.....”

Bill is silent, although I imagine there is rage in his eyes. His hands are tense, his body rigid against me.

“Please...” I whisper, barely looking up at him through his fingers.

His gaze his unwavering upon me, a mixture of anger and disappointment, and a level of discomfort that I have never seen it. It nearly physically pains me to see it, knowing I have done this to us.

“I've done the worst thing ever.” I whisper in a choked tone, “I've hurt you.... cut you off.... made you feel useless....” I shake my head, hardly able to continue. “I disappointed you and betrayed you.... And I'd do anything if you'll just forgive me...” My voice breaks again and I release his hands to grasp at the rest of his body, lowering my head to his chest and sobbing. “Please, I'd... I'd...take a-any amount of pain..... if you'll just....” I try to catch a breath as hot tears spill down my cheeks, “If you just accept me back... in the end...”

I can feel Bill's heart thundering against my face through the thin wall of his chest and his hands slowly settle against my shoulders.

The only sound in the room is my panicked sobs that seem to become more desperate by the second.

Suddenly, Bill sighs softly. His hand slides up to the back of my head and his mouth presses to my crown. “Breathe,” He murmurs to me over my choked cries. I grasp at him, pressing my tear-soaked face to his chest. I don't know if this is him breaking down from the cold, angry man I had incited, but I hope it is. The small silver hope inside my pushes more tears to my eyes despite his command.

“Tom, breathe.” He orders more firmly. “Slowly.”

I attempt to follow his words, sucking in breaths against the wild barrage of emotion. My fingers claw at his back, as I try to hold him closer and my legs squeeze around his waist.

“In and out.” Bill says, stroking my hair in a calm fashion. “Focus on the sound of my voice and breathe.”

I press my eyes closed, forcing in breaths through my nose and letting them out through my mouth, trying to establish a rhythm. Bill continues to speak to me in even tones until at last my breathing even out and my tears begin to dry.

At this point, Bill moves us, rolling me onto my back again and hovering over me. He leans on his elbows, his face close to mine. When I open my swollen, puffy eyes, his narrowed, dark, almond eyes are looking straight back at me.

“I love you....” He murmurs, but his voice is uncertain, “Strangely enough.... I can't hate you for this.... or continue to punish you.”

I blink quickly, unsure of how I should take this sudden turn of events. Logically, I should be throwing myself down at his feet and thanking him a hundred times for his mercy.

“I... I love you...too.” I respond at last, my voice halting still from crying.

“Do you?” He responds, his brow furrowing.

I swallow hard, and I look away from a second, attempting not to break into tears again. “Yes...” I whisper. “You're everything to me....” My voice fades away into nothing.

“Do you understand what you have done?” He asks, his voice wobbling on the edge of control.

I nod quickly, a stray tear spilling down my temple. “Yes, and I hate myself for it.”

His eyes turn from me and I can see his jaw clenching. “Don't say that.” He whispers.

I swallow hard, “But it's true...”

His gaze rests upon mine again and the brown depths of them moisten. “It makes me sick how much I love you.” He tells me through gritted teeth, and it shakes me to my core – the violence of passion, the complexity of his love for me. “You could do this to me every day and I would still -.....” He cuts off suddenly, lowering his head, his forehead almost touching my chest. Strands of his hair fall against my mouth and nose, tickling my senses with the pleasant scent of shampoo and hair product.

I remain still, unable speak, hardly able to think.

Several moments pass before I manage to open my lips. I attempt to speak for several seconds, the words getting caught up somewhere between my brain and my mouth. At last, I whisper, “I'm never.... _never_ doing it again.... I love you more than anything and I'm so sorry...” My voice breaks again and I suck in a deep breath, telling myself not to cry again, “I'm yours... forever....”

He draws away from me, sitting back on his heels between my legs. His hair is dangling in his eyes and he is so dangerously attractive to me. The way he looks at me so darkly makes me quiver inside – although not from fear this time.

“Put your legs in the air.” He orders suddenly.

My stomach clenches sharply with the command and I find myself trembling, stumbling to follow his orders.

He searches in the sheets for the lube and quickly slicks his cock with it again. My body is still aching from the earlier penetration but I have the distinct feeling that this is going to be very different. I can sense his anger disintegrating and what I sense now is his establishing his possession and power over me. The cock ring is still pinching me, but I will willingly accept this – or whatever he chooses to do with him. I am his, completely.

He grabs the backs of my thighs, right under the bends of my knees and parts my legs wider. I bite at my lip, my fingers curling in the sheets as he lays me open. He gazes down at me as he settles his pelvis against mine. I can feel his moist cock rubbing against my crevice and shudder, hardly able to hold his gaze.

“I'm going to fuck you,” He murmurs in a calm tone that makes my heart race, “And I want you to remember who owns you.”

I nod back at him, searching for my tongue's ability to speak, “Yes, sir...” My voice is a bare whisper but it is the best I can give.

He releases my leg for a moment to press the head of his cock to my yielding entrance. I arch as he pushes into me for the second time that night and my eyes slam shut, colors of pleasure bursting across my darkened vision. His long, strong fingers hoist my legs again as he draws back and fucks all the way into me in a long, hard thrust. A trembling cry rises on my lips and my hips buck up against him. I ignore signs of pain from the beating and grind my ass against the downward movements of his hips. He moves straight into a hard, fast rhythm, forcing the bed to rock under us.

“Bill....unggg....” I moan, trying to crack my eyes open to look up at him. His face is strained and beginning to flush with color.

He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and plants his hands on the mattress on either side of me, using the leverage and my open position to slam into me. The friction immediately begins to build between us and cries flow from lips as he drives against my tender insides and rides up against my swelling prostate. My groin throbs heatedly with desire, the head bulging dark with color against the sharp hold of the ring.

“Do you remember?” Bill growls between thrusts.

I can barely respond besides unintelligible cries, but I reach for him, my fingers scraping at his shoulder and sinking into his hair as slams into me hard enough to jar my body across the sheets and force my lower body up off the mattress.

“Nggghh.... god... yes...” I whimper at last as our eyes connect. Once he is latched onto me, I cannot look away. A fire rages within his gaze, burning me up with the heat of his passion. I'm frozen under him, willingly allowing him to ravage me senseless.

“You... are... mine.” His hips smack against my bruised ass with each word, punctuating the sentence with deep thrusts of his cock inside me. Waves of heat and pleasure crash over me, and I wonder if even the cock ring can hold me back.

“Yes!” I shout, my agreement ringing against the walls of the bedroom. It seems to urge him on and his pace quickens again. His head dips down, his visage twisted with pleasure and exertion. His ivory skin glows with perspiration and taut muscles ripple beneath. I can feel them clench under my fingers with each thrust; and every single detail of his body and his pleasure arouses me.

My body begs with me to listen to its screaming arousal but all I can focus on is him. I want this to mean that he is accepting me back to him. I don't expect forgiveness immediately. All I want is a chance to prove to him that I will never make this horrendous error ever again. I want him to take it out on my body and purge himself of his vicious feelings. I want my Master back.

I squeeze my eyes shut as pleasure sharpens across my center, turning into an almost painful ache as he drives into me. The lube is even beginning to dry up against the rapid, hard thrusts and I gasp and groan, waiting for his orgasm inside of me. I can feel him beginning to shudder and stiffen, signaling the end of his rampant pillage on my body. I cling to him as he works himself to pleasure inside of me, clenching my weak muscles around him until his thrusts shorten and falter.

He arches suddenly against me, shoving his head up against my chin and into my neck, masking a cry against my flesh as he bucks and trembles violently over me. His orgasm touches me physically and mentally and I feel weak, as if I had cum myself. When he paints my inside walls with his release, I gasp softly and grasp him closer, holding him until he sinks down against me, breathing heavily. His entire body is quivering and it takes several long moments for him to relax completely.

At last, he lifts his head, pushing away from me slowly. He slides out of me and I bite my lip at the slight sting of the retraction. He hovers over me and I look up at him in uncertain glances. I'm startled when I feel him touch my face, his fingers stroking softly, “Are you mine, Tomi?” He asks, softly.

“Yes, Master.” I whisper, looking up at him, wide-eyed.

He nods slowly, “Yes... yes, you are.”

A sense of relief floods me so quickly that tears rush to my eyes. I blink against them, not wanting to cry anymore tonight, but they sting my vision just the same.

“Give Master a kiss.” Bill whispers, leaning down to nudge his mouth against mine. I respond quickly, starving for his affection after the brutal night we've had. Our mouths meet, open and desirous. He catches my bottom lip for a second, sucking it as I press my tongue against the rim of his top lip, seeking entrance. He lets my tongue in after only a second and I moan as mine swirls against his, swiping against the stud of his barbell and up against his palate. We exchange hot kisses for several seconds, before Bill drags his mouth away. I am disappointed at first before I realize what he's doing.

He slid down my body, laying wet kisses along my chest and stomach before reaching my cock. I moan, my head falling back against the pillow, as he tongues the swollen head slowly. Pleasure seizes me again and I squirm, holding back desperate pleas for him to remove the cock ring. In the next second, however, he is taking me in – sealing my aching flesh inside the hot, wet suction of his mouth.

I am shocked, but pleased by his decided course of action and I lay a quivering hand on his dark, soft hair as I clench my other hand in the sheets.

His mouth rides up and down my cock in a steady motion and I gasp and groan as my crotch throbs against the barrier of the ring. I can feel his saliva beginning to dribble down my flesh and arch eagerly as he fingers rub at my base, turning the cock ring slowly against the wetness to dislodge it from my flesh.

“Bill, yes...”I whimper in a pathetic tone. I know I will come as soon as I am free, and my fiercely aching balls are shouting in triumph.

He works it up my shaft, removing it slower than I desire. I am lunging against the barrier, trying to hold myself down as Bill's mouth continues to pleasure my head, sucking softly, then firmly, alternating in a maddening fashion.

“Bill, please...” I moan again, clenching my eyes shut. I dig my heels into the mattress and tear at the sheets with both hands now.

Bill's mouth slides off of me with a slick pop, and he murmurs a “Shhhh...”

He slides the ring off of me in a swift motion, tossing it to the side before his mouth immediately sucks me down again. I buck against the sheets, my eyes wide open in shocked pleasure as he sucks down on me hard.

If his intention was to make me cum immediately, he succeeded. I barely last two more passes of Bill's mouth over me before the orgasm seizes me. His hands clasp my hips, holding me down from shoving my cock down his throat with my wild bucking and I cry out raggedly as I shudder and twitch under him. My moans are quite understated, but I can barely breath, much less make sounds with how intense the pleasure is. It rocks through me for several seconds, tearing my insides to shreds; every part of me – my body, my heart, my mind.

When at last I'm a finished, trembling mess, Bill crawls up next to me. He lays down with his body close to mine and gathers me in his arms. I weakly reach for him, pressing my weary head to his chest. The feelings inside me at this moment are almost too overwhelming to sort out or speak of.

What I know for sure is that I have him back in my embrace. Maybe I'm not forgiven yet but I do not care. All I need right now is his arms around me – nothing more and nothing less.

I know that I am his, always and forever. Whatever I did tonight will never happen again. This has been the worst mistake of my life, but I will prove to him again that I deserve his trust and his companionship.

When I can use my voice again, I'll tell him I'll be a better man again – and I will mean it.

 


End file.
